


In These Lonely Hours

by inusagi



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, M/M, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 07:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inusagi/pseuds/inusagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack watches Ianto sleep, afraid that it's all just a lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In These Lonely Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine. Please don’t sue.   
> A/N: After I posted “The Love You Don’t Feel,” Jess729 asked me to turn the tables. This isn’t a sequel, but the story follows a similar vein. The title comes from the same song as the first one did. “I Can’t Make You Love Me” by Bonnie Raitt

I watch him sleep. I know it’s creepy, Ianto’s told me often enough when his…how does he put it?...his spidey sense tingles? Something like that. Whatever he calls it, he wakes up and beats me over the head with his pillow and insists that if all I’m going to do is “creep on him” that I can go back to the Hub.

I doubt I’ll ever stop, though. I’ll eventually just get better at pretending to sleep when he stirs.

There’s something so…innocent about him when he’s off into his dreams. He’s so young. I…forget that, sometimes. Or I let myself forget it.

When he’s awake, he’s so…capable. He puts on his careful, stoic masks and does what needs to be done. Wrestles Weevils, disposes of bodies with frankly scary ease, not to mention the ease in which he lies and drugs the civilians they come across on cases. Sometimes, I think he’s more dedicated than the rest of us combined.

Sometimes…sometimes I worry that he’s not innocent at all, that it’s a lie I tell myself to justify my feelings for him. If he’s this sweet, innocent boy corrupted by Torchwood, he could be in love with me. There could be a _reason_ he let himself be drawn into this…relationship…thing…so soon after the Cyberman incident. If Ianto is the innocent young man I want to believe he is, then he could have just gotten…swept up in the moment, in the passion.

I want to believe it.

But he’s so good at keeping to himself. Unnaturally good. I keep thinking, in the dark while he sleeps, that he’s distracting me, lulling me into a false sense of safety before…I don’t know. Taking his revenge or something.

_One day, I'll have the chance to save you ... and I'll watch you suffer and die._

It’s been months. Months since he said those words, months since he was nearly eaten by psychotic country folk, months even since Suzie tried to kill us all.

His words still ring in my ears.

It had been months. _Months_. I should be over it. It should be in the past, never thought again.

_I'll watch you suffer and die._

But Ianto is patient, level-headed and revenge is a dish best served cold. He’d already proven that he’s got what it takes to fool me for months on end. There’s nothing to say that he’s not, right now. Even while he sleeps.

As old as I am, as many lifetimes as I’ve had, it could be me that’s swept up in the moment, in the passion.

I wanted him so badly. I still do. Even through this…anxiety, I’m drawn to him like a moth to flame. There are even moments that I’d…I’d let him kill me, over and over again, if only it meant that I could still have this. I’d give him my secrets, let him know I can’t really die, if I could still hold him, touch him, fuck him.

_You´re the biggest monster of all._

It…hurts, this not being able to trust him, not being able to let my guard down. It hurts more to think he might be right about me.

And the thought that all of this is a trick…it’s excruciating.  

It’s been so long since I’ve let myself love someone. Even longer since I _wanted_ someone to love me.

I want what we have to be real, to be as innocent and honest as I want to believe Ianto is. I want pizza and bad sci-fi on the sofa at night. I want steamy showers and hot coffee in the morning. I want stolen, chocolate-flavored kisses at work.

I want it so badly.

That’s what would make it the perfect revenge.

“Dark roast has less caffeine,” Ianto mumbles, and rolls over. He tugs the blanket and manages to wrap it around himself like a cocoon before settling back into his pillow.

This is worth it, though.


End file.
